


Carriage

by Collectible



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: 'past' childhood keiei, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Not Beta Read, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, eichi being bitter about soulmates for like 5k words, i rarely write present tense oof, very slight ritsumao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 18:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16581740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Collectible/pseuds/Collectible
Summary: Fate is a twisted, fickle creature. She is as dreadful as she is phenomenal, and her gifted Marks are a testament to her duality.Despite it all, Eichi prefers forging his own path.





	Carriage

Exiting the student council room and finding Wataru there, pressed against the wall in front of the door and offering a single white rose, has become common in the past weeks.  
  
Each time has been as heartwarming as the first. Eichi accepts the rose with a smile and earns one back just as hopeful. They're like newlyweds. Children, even. Filled with puppy love bouncing around inside their chests and begging to spout out into reality in a stream of utter nonsense.  
  
He settles the gift inside his shirt's upper pocket. The petals are soft and fluffy, as white as sheep wool. Wataru's flowers have never been less than perfect.  
  
Wataru presents a hand and he takes it. Taking a break from paperwork after school leads them to the student store or the student-used kitchen. The path their legs takes them on heads toward the latter. Eichi fantasizes at the thought of eating one of Wataru's delectable treats to pass the time.  
  
No one else shares in these moments. There exists room for only two characters. It's encompassing in a way Eichi has never experienced with anyone in his life. Not even with Keito, his closest friend, who used to follow nearly every word of his to the letter.  
  
He doesn't know if the feeling is oppressive or freeing. Whatever it is, it's ever-present whenever he feels the warmth of Wataru's hand circling his own. Sees the tenderness in his gaze when Wataru believes he isn't watching. Remembers the talks they have, alone, with or without their infamous exchange diary.  
  
Eichi's heart pounds along with the love burning in his chest like a wildfire, and he can't recall the last time he's been so, so happy. When he confessed? Or when Wataru confessed as well, leaving them tripped up and tongue-tied, eyes wide at their foolishness before they burst into unrestrained laughter and barely-disguised tears.  
  
He'd been so glad at the time that he nearly wanted to die.  
  
But he isn’t dead. His heart is still beating loud and strong, even if he grows weak at times. It sometimes folds under the weight of his illness but it never crumbles like wasted paper. If he's lucky, it'll stay active for a long, long time. If he's lucky, he'll never have to say goodbye to the joy Wataru brings him.  
  
If he's lucky, Eichi can forget everything for a little while.  
  
The skin over his heart itches.

✣

Cute Tori is complaining about the stance 'Long Hair' has forced him into again. It’s a common occurrence. It's precious how much the two have worked together and grown to respect each other. Regardless, Eichi recognizes his partner goes too far at times. He glances up from his water bottle to take in the sight.  
  
A smile breaks out across his face. It's not as bad as he anticipated, but Tori seems more than a little put-out. He's mimicking a cartwheel, hands flat on the ground with Wataru holding his legs to stop him from toppling. His face is turning as pink as his hair. Sweat drips down his cheek. Yuzuru is watching as well, as intent as a hawk ready to protect its young.  
  
"My head hurts!" Tori complains. His glare turns upward despite the impossibility of seeing Wataru when he's standing at his back. "Long Hair, stop it! What if I get real dizzy? You're ruining our practice time if I can't actually practice, you know!"  
  
"Fufu, but you agreed to this, did you not? I am blameless when you've handed me your trust, Princess!"  
  
"I didn't agree! You grabbed me and forced me like this!"  
  
"Oh, had I?" Wataru shrugs. "Details! Now, Princess, hold your breath and tense your stomach muscles. You--"  
  
Tori's shirt gives up faster than Tori does. Both hands occupied with holding him up, the shirt follows gravity and falls. His flat stomach reveals itself, the rest of his chest, then it folds over his face and he sputters indignantly as Wataru laughs and--  
  
"Oh? What an interesting soulmate you have, Tori," Eichi finds himself saying.  
  
The practice room pauses. He should have expected such a reaction. Sometimes his mouth runs more than it has a right to.  
  
Yuzuru is quick to react. He strides over to politely--yet impatiently--shoo Wataru's hands off of Tori's legs. Tori is sputtering as his butler flips him upright to his knees. He breaks off his mindless comments as he clutches his head and groans.  
  
"It was a bit of dirt, President-sama. Hibiki-sama." Yuzuru’s tone is bordering on frigid.

Eichi hasn't seen this sort of sharpness in his underclassman’s eyes since he noticed them in the crowd during ex-fine's final performance. He'd love to see how far the anger and protectiveness goes. The topic of soulmates is terribly frail however. One wrong move could push Yuzuru into becoming intimidating in his own right.

When Eichi opens his mouth, Tori is faster.  
  
"Jeez, Yuzuru! Don't make it so serious!" Tori stumbles to his feet. His hands wave as he attempts to catch Yuzuru's attention. "It's fine! It's a name, you know? Stop with the scary air already!"  
  
"You are the heir to the Himemiya family, Young Master. To have them know your soulmate--"  
  
"It's President and Long Hair! I don't know about Long Hair, but President isn't the sort to tell secrets. You have to trust our unitmates more, Yuzuru."  
  
Yuzuru mutters under his breath. Tori puffs up his cheeks like an angry chipmunk in winter, seconds from replying in a less-hushed manner.  
  
"Okay, you two." Moving to his feet, Eichi holds his arms up in a defensive posture. As if such a gesture will ever relax Yuzuru. Unlike him, Tori drops the tension from his shoulders. "No fighting. I am the one who called attention to it. I should apologize; those marks have always been rude to mention. I'm sorry, Tori."  
  
"W-wah...! No, don't apologize, President! Yuzuru is overprotective. I would have told you if you asked."  
  
Yuzuru interrupts with, "Not that he should, as the heir to the Himemiyas."  
  
"You're missing the point, Yuzuru! President can know about it all he likes. And Long Hair too, I guess," he mutters.  
  
Speaking of Wataru. He's stuck in the same place, observing the two arguing. A hand hovering at his chin gives him a pondering aura. It's an unusual expression. Different.  
  
"Oh-ho, Princess," says Wataru after a while. He speaks above the back-and-forth happening in front of him without trouble. "I must admit, I am surprised. Our dear Princess is a Markbearer... when will the Prince and Princess wed?"  
  
The flush of Tori's cheek is more natural this time. "N-never! And if we did, I wouldn't invite you!"  
  
"How hurtful! Your words... they stab at my heart like knives..."  
  
"Good!" Tori huffs. "Besides, it's not like having a Mark means anything. They’re a suggestion. Papa and Mama aren’t soulmates and they’re in love. It's superstitious nonsense to think nature can choose who you will end up with for the rest of your life."  
  
"Oya?" Wataru blinks. "What a surprising take on soulmarks. How mature of you."  
  
Tori bristles. He scowls and shoots Wataru a glare, receiving naught but a grin in response. "Whatever... That sort of response sounds like you don't have a Mark, Long Hair."  
  
He doesn't refute the statement. "For once, it seems I am a part of the norm."  
  
Eichi wonders why he feels happy about such a tiny revelation.  
  
"Yuzuru doesn't have one either... How about you, President?" Tori's wide green eyes stare at him. "Do you have a soulmate? Your partner would have to be as great as you are! Although it's impossible, of course!"  
  
He freezes the tiniest bit. Glances at Wataru before darting his gaze to the floor, to his water bottle. Anywhere else. "Ah. Well--"  
  
"Would the Tenshouin family not make his status as a Markbearer common knowledge?" Yuzuru asks. Tori considers it before agreeing, saying yes, the Tenshouins not highlighting how their son has a fated partner would be weird. Why would a wealthy family not dump all of its pride on a scion chosen by Fate herself?  
  
Lying--or otherwise, not getting the chance to say his piece--is normal for him. Doing so to his unitmates is something he's less accustomed to. It feels odd to leave the conversation hanging. But Tori and Yuzuru are already moving on, recalling other families and their histories with Markbearer heirs. Eichi can breathe again.  
  
He resolutely ignores the thoughtful gaze of his partner from across the room.  
  
✣  
  
When Eichi announces he and Wataru are dating to his best friend, Keito gets real quiet.  
  
The archery grounds are unoccupied save for the two of them. The stillnesse of the clubroom is unnatural. Even more so when accompanied by the shock of his words.  
  
Keito’s current noiselessness is not the same as when he roped Keito into assisting on his path to reforming the pathetic Yumenosaki of the past to something better, greater. It’s not calculating, with a sharp glint in Keito’s eyes as he plans. It’s not somewhat shameful as he works to fulfill their goals while slaughtering those in their path. Instead he’s… worried, in a way. Completely still as though he thinks any movement or sound will break the peace.  
  
Finally, Keito picks and chooses the words he wants to say. “What about your parents?”  
  
“What about them?” he repeats. Childish, yes, but what about them? They’ve shown little interest in him over the years and multiple hospitalizations. They aren’t a part of his choice at all. “Are you saying I should listen to them about who I should love? How old-fashioned of you, Keito.”  
  
“You know that isn’t what I mean.” Keito’s fingers dance along the edges of his glasses as he talks. A tell for when his brain is whirling around in a circle, coming up with countless questions and answers. “What have they said about this? They know you're a Markbearer. Your soulmate knows, too. What if they come to you for a relationship? If you’re involved with--” Keito frowns _very_ obviously-- “Hibiki, they may throw a wedge between you two.”  
  
A snorts escapes him. A wedge? He’s more likely to ruin his own romance. “The odds are unlikely, Keito. My parents are in their own worlds. They are Markbearers without the haze of constant conditional love. Any hypocrisy will reflect on their nonexistent relationship. As for my… as for them, the chance they would want to get involved with me is minimal at best. I am the Emperor after all; I ruled and acted as a tyrant over Yumenosaki with an iron fist and vicious guard dogs. I’ve trampled on everyone's lives. If they wished to form a relationship with me, I’m afraid I’ve ruined the opportunity for both of us.”  
  
“So you’ll ignore them? Act as if they’re not around?”  
  
Eichi shrugs. “We are both responsible. They’re ignoring me as equally as I am them. Seems we’ve agreed on keeping to ourselves.”  
  
He supposes his friend would find the situation worrying. While arranged marriages are a thing of the past, pushing soulmates to connect is an aspect of modern times. It’s an aftermath of childhood stories and a pervasive sense of wish fulfillment.  
  
He can’t judge; as kids, he and Keito’s minds were filled to the brim with those stories. Young Markbearers told countless tales of soulmates who’ve met through hardship and tragedy. Potentially meeting as children and living their entire lives together until they knew every minute detail. Fairy tales to rope impressionable minds into believing life will become peachy the moment they encounter their one true love.  
  
Keito’s never been one to believe in pure true love, but they spoke about it in hushed, gleeful tones often during the dark nights in their childhood. Wondering if love at first sight will happen upon encountering their fated person. If the first word out of their mouths will send them falling into absolute and total infatuation. If soulmarks could form on the body after birth, and if he and Keito were secretly each other’s soulmates, simply waiting for their names to appear right under the initial ones.  
  
Keito was much cuter as a child. He feels cheated to have such a strict, lecturing best friend nowadays. Whatever happened to the little boy who promised to be in charge of his funeral when he died? Or swore if they never found their soulmates that they should marry instead?

Well, they've located their soulmates. He has no interest in becoming any closer than a stranger or acquaintance. Keito’s soulmate is around yet neither have worked up the nerve to bring up their status. The promise is dead in the waters but Eichi appreciates the light of hope the words sparked in the younger him. To a lonely child like he was, having someone so dedicated to his happiness had been a godsend in a sea of pitch black despair.  
  
They’ve aged past bedtime stories and childhood promises now. They’ve evolved and branched out. They’re still friends, even with the revolution behind them and the guilt plaguing their minds once in a while. He doubts their friendship will truly fade.  
  
“As long as you’re happy,” Keito says after a while. Eichi almost forgot they were standing around with how deep he was in his thoughts. “You’re my friend. You’re annoyingly stubborn, too. If this is what you choose then so be it. You know what you’re doing. Sometimes.”  
  
Turning away from him, Keito gets into position to restart his practice. Picks up the arrow he discarded onto the floor. They’ve been speaking for too long anyway. He should leave soon--return to the student council room and get the papers out of the way.  
  
“Not all the time?” Eichi asks instead.  
  
“No.” The bowstring tenses as he pulls it taut. It shivers from the desire to leap forward. “Most of the time I’m the one with the plan. So if things go downhill, don’t worry: I’ll find a way to fix it. Consider it an addendum to our idiotic childhood promise, Eichi.”  
  
Keito releases the bowstring and the arrow soars. The strong impact it has against the wooden board yards away is loud enough to reach them. It’s a perfect shot; right in the center of the white target.  
  
Hmm… He’ll revise part of what he said.  
  
His best friend can be perfectly cute when he wants to be.  
  
✣  
  
Lavender tea is soothing in the autumn months. Its heat chases the early winter chill off of his body, keeping him warm until it fades and the cold leeches back in.  
  
Tea Club’s meeting has begun, leaving him and Ritsu to surround the table. Hajime, teary-eyed, had announced his needed presence at a Ra*bits live. As customary of a good club leader, Eichi waved him off to contribute to his unit like a good first-year student.

Hajime’s tea is delicious, but Eichi has been a connoisseur of it much longer than his club member. He fixed the lavender tea and sat there, idly drinking, until Ritsu came skulking up to the table like a zombie and crash landed face-first into the wood.  
  
Since then, they kept to themselves. Ritsu is deep into his nap. Eichi feels no desire to awaken someone so tired. They sit and allow time to pass until the bell rings.  
  
The voice of another scatters the peace.  
  
“President?” Eichi looks up to the new arrival. The rose-red hair tucked under a hair clip is all he needs to recognize Mao.  
  
“Good afternoon, Isara-kun.”  
  
“Ah, good afternoon. Sorry to bother you, but…” Mao points to Ritsu, as dead to the world as a corpse. “I came to check on him. He’s been sick, you see…”  
  
It seems like everyone has noticed the fragility of Ritsu recently. Despite the impressive show of attending classes and staying awake during the mornings, his obvious fatigue is weighing on him like bricks.  
  
As leader of the Tea Club, part of his responsibilities is to oversee the health of his members. Something tells Eichi that butting into Ritsu’s reasons would lead to nothing but avoidance of the subject, though. Fitting, he thinks, considering the point of the Tea Club in the first place.  
  
Eichi waves a hand in a ‘go ahead’ manner. He may not be close enough to Ritsu to know how to help, but his best friend is.  
  
With a thankful nod, Mao gets to waking the youngest Sakuma brother. It takes a bit. Scratch that—it takes a _long_ time. Mao has resorted to shaking him almost like a man gone wild. Eichi has a blurry recollection of Keito fitfully calling his name during one of the times he had to leave school to transfer to a hospital. The fact he’s remembering such a memory while observing the distressing scene does not sit well with him at all.  
  
At last, though, Ritsu twitches awake. “Mmm…? Maa~kun? Don’t disturb my sleep...”  
  
“Ritsu!” Mao looks equal parts worried and furious. “Why--? We’re going to the infirmary. Now!”  
  
“Eh? But I’m fine?” He pushes off the table to sit upright. His eyes are glazed with sleep. Ritsu yawns. “You worry too much, Maa~kun… Sometimes it’s endearing, sometimes it’s annoying. It’s adorable right now, so worry about me more, okay~?”

“Don’t treat this like some joke! Get up!” Tugging at Ritsu’s arm, Mao struggles to get his friend to his feet. Ritsu, using whatever smidgen of energy he has left, manages to somehow win the tug-of-war and stay seated.  
  
He should speak up. “Ritsu-kun, listen to him. Go rest in the infirmary.”  
  
“Ah~... I said I'm fine. Doesn't my word count...?” As lazy as he sounds, Ritsu does seem determined to have his way.  
  
Eichi gives the struggling another few seconds of uselessness before he sighs and places his teacup onto the table’s surface. “Isara-kun, I’ll help. Together we can move him.”  
  
Mao’s sighed “Thank you, President” is a touch quiet over Ritsu’s irritated repetition of “I’m fine, you two.”  
  
The winter chill sneaks past the tea’s vanishing warmth and makes him shiver. Eichi gets out of his seat. “And you’ll be even better when you’re in an actual bed. Come now, Ritsu-kun. Up, up.”  
  
“You don’t get to say that, Ecchan,” Ritsu grumbles. When he does reach over, Ritsu slips out of his grasp and sidles up at Mao’s side. “Eh… If you’re this intent, Maa~kun can do it. You’re busy, anyway.”  
  
“You believe drinking tea is more important than your health?”  
  
Again, he retorts, “You’re saying that?”  
  
Which is fair, Eichi thinks. He returns to his chair.  
  
“Maa~kun can take me. He’s great at carrying me around every day.”  
  
“You’ve haven't needed me to carry you lately,” Mao adds, eyebrows furrowing.  
  
Ritsu shrugs as if it matters little. His shoulders sag. “Things change. Besides~ what sort of soulmate can’t do things on his own?”  
  
“Oh?” Eichi says at the exact time Mao releases a large sigh.  
  
“Don’t listen to him, President. He’s more tired than I thought.” Tugging his arm again, Mao wraps it around his shoulders to hold Ritsu up.  
  
After the reply, Ritsu hums in his throat. “We are soulmates, though? Your name is right over my heart, all bold and neat-looking. I can show it to you. Wanna see? Ecchan?”  
  
Unfortunate to his innate curiosity, Mao jerks them both further from the table. “Don’t show your body off to people! Especially the President! I apologize for him; he’s worse off than expected.” Awkward while shouldering his friend, Mao’s bow is rather off-kilter. “I’ll get him to the infirmary. I hope you have a good rest of the day.”

 Ritsu’s grin is particularly smug. “Enjoy your tea, Ecchan.”  
  
He waves them off as they turn and stumble to the main building housing the infirmary. Mao’s voice is sharp and snappish, too low to hear but the speed and harshness of the words are easy to understand. Whatever he’s saying, Ritsu shakes his head and smiles wider. He shoves his cheek against his friend’s and Eichi can hear the following yelp of surprise.  
  
The two leave his sight. Eichi wonders if they are actually soulmates.  
  
It doesn’t matter, in the end.  
  
✣  
  
He’s in the hospital. Again.  
  
Winter arrives with a fast breakdown of his immune system and a near-inability for Eichi to not keel over and cough out a lung. The good news is he doesn’t cough up a lung. The bad news is the spots of blood appearing recently whenever he coughs into napkins. Which is every day during this time, but one hint he’s unwell sends Keito and his guards into a rousing panic.  
  
So he’s returned to the nearest hospital. That was in the afternoon. Now, several hours later as darkness cloaks the night sky, he’s staring at the pale ceiling, counting the tiles and lines. It’s boring, hypnotizing work.  
  
There’s a knock on the window several feet from the end of his bed.  
  
“Come in, Wataru.”  
  
No one else would come after visitor hours long ended. Especially not if it involved climbing up the side of a hospital, risking life and limb for no reason other than kicks and impressing an audience.  
  
The window slides open after he gives his consent. Eichi ceases in his counting to ease up against the bed's headboard. His eyesight has adapted to the darkness hours ago. Wataru’s silver hair slips through the shadows like a running river. He resembles a mysterious phantom, haunting the rooms with patients fated to meet their end.  
  
At last, the slivers of hair stop near him. The bed sinks under another’s weight. Wataru takes his hand.  
  
“What do I owe the pleasure?” Eichi asks, lightly squeezing the hand cradling his own.

 “I couldn’t wait to see you, Emperor.” One would think it strange to hear Wataru so softly. He’s gotten used to it as months passed. Once upon a time, he was as clueless as the masses when it came to Wataru. “I wasn’t able to receive the diary today, as well.”  
  
Ah, right. The exchange diary. “You wanted to hear my thoughts, did you?”  
  
“If the middleman is unavailable, why not obtain it straight from the source?”  
  
Wataru shifts. He’s doing something to the night table to the side, placing an object onto its surface and hovering above it. There’s a click, the click of a switch, and whatever he’s put on the table is lit on fire.  
  
It’s a candle. Its orange, flickering light illuminates his bed, bringing the tiny island into view. Beside it is a tall gray vase filled with a combination of white and scarlet roses that Eichi hasn’t seen there in the daytime.  
  
Wataru and his habits. Not that he didn’t love them--and Wataru in turn for his kindness.  
  
“May I?” Wataru nods his head at the small space between Eichi and the edge of the bed.  
  
It’s your typical single bed. Eichi’s form takes up half of the space. Despite it, he scoots closer to the window, allowing his partner to slide under the sheets and press at his side. It’s a tight fit. Comfortable in the end, as he lays his head against Wataru’s shoulder and sighs.  
  
“So,” he starts, “you wish to know how my day went?”  
  
He tells him the same as written in his recent entry for the diary. Most of the content is boring to his ears, absolute white noise. Wataru expresses interest though, making noise under his breath at the right time as to make Eichi’s heart thump harder against his ribcage with pride at holding his attention.  
  
To his misfortune, the previous day was not everlasting and the story concludes. There’s not much to say afterward. Sometimes peace is in the silent presence of another. Thinking of nothing, Eichi observes as Wataru’s chest rises and falls as the minutes extend. He shakes his head to clear it of cotton to keep from dozing off.  
  
He feels the curious hum before he hears it. “Eichi?”  
  
“Mm…?”  
  
Wataru’s index finger draws circles on the back of his hand.  
  
“Are you a Markbearer, Eichi?”

“Hmm?” The question goes over his head. When he finally does understand what’s asked, his head shoots off its perch. A shot of panic burns through the cotton until he feels wide awake. “Am I a...”  
  
“Markbearer,” he repeats. His head tilts. “They are rare, yet several within our school have appeared and met their fated one. As for I, the first Mark I’ve seen first-hand would have to be Princess’.”  
  
“I'm not,” Eichi says, blood rushing. “I am not a Markbearer. I have no soulmate.”  
  
“Is that so…?”  
  
He doesn’t want to lie. There’s no reason to lie--just as there’s no reason for Wataru to ask about something so unnecessary. Every bit of this situation is unnecessary.  
  
“Look, Your Majesty.” While deep in his whirling thoughts, considering and discarding options on how to end the conversation, Wataru has gotten busy on his shirt. Eichi returns to reality as the last button is undone. Embarrassment colors his cheeks as he’s allowed to look, but Wataru is gesturing at a specific part of his chest, not the entire masterpiece. “No Mark. For Markbearers, how must it feel to gaze at a blank canvas?”  
  
For him, the sight is peculiar. All his life he’s known the name of the person meant to be his fated partner, the person most capable of being his ultimate equal. Blessed by nature, as one would say, he’s had someone to fall back on. To think of those with no name on their body, coasting through life and relationships with naught but hopes and dreams. Completely unchained. The majority of humans have always been luckier.  
  
The skin above Wataru’s heart is as warm as the candlelight. His heart beats steady against Eichi’s palm. Wataru is calm under his hand; not bothered in the least by his partial nudity and the touch of his partner.  
  
Eichi isn’t an idiot. Neither is Wataru, although he loves to act like one. After a scene like this, he has a choice. Do it or don’t? Show the Mark or press on with the lie?  
  
How unfair.  
  
His shaking fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. He doesn’t look anywhere close to Wataru as he slides the clothing article off his left shoulder. The room is far too cold to be undressing like this, Eichi thinks in a bid to forget this is even happening.  
  
Wataru says nothing.  
  
Then, Eichi startles as a finger traces the curve and twist of the name embedded in his skin. When he faces forward again, Wataru has shifted closer, bending to read the stark black characters properly.

 “So it’s them…” Wataru hums again. A smile tugs at his lips. “I must say, what an unexpected soulmate. _Amazing!_ Fate is rather whimsical, is she not?”  
  
“Whimsical. Fickle.” He shrugs, casting his gaze to the bedsheets. “Same difference, no?”  
  
The finger roams over curling lines and sharp edges. How long is he going to examine it…? “You didn’t want me to know. Why?”  
  
“You know as well as I do how Marks can ruin relationships.”  
  
“Are you breaking up with me?”  
  
He glares at Wataru, watching the smile expand. “Of course not!”  
  
“Fufu, then your Mark is not ruining our relationship. In fact…” Eichi startles as Wataru leans and plants a kiss right atop the scrawled name. Stiff, he doesn’t move outside of tightening his grip on the sheets. “Have we not strengthened? Since birth you’ve known whom Fate herself has had destined for you. Yet you chose I, your Hibiki Wataru. A monster turned human… Am I not meant to appreciate your love, Eichi? You've made me love you even more, if such was your intent.”  
  
Ahh… he’s blushing. His face is awash in a wave of fire.  
  
“... Speechless? What a first.” Lifting up, Wataru pecks him on the lips. “If you cannot respond now, I can repeat myself until you can. Worry not about your Mark or how it may play a part in the future. I love you now, Eichi. A name will not erase my feelings.”  
  
What awfully sweet lines. As sticky-sweet as sugary cotton candy. Eichi’s fingers tremble as his head ducks and he breathes. Breathes deep and exhales in his typical routine until his heart isn’t ready to shatter like glass and the tight space in his throat doesn’t make him want to wheeze. Wataru lets him take his time. His kindness is a blessing as it is a curse.  
  
When he’s as calm as he’s going to get, Eichi rubs his face and sighs. There's the slightest hint of liquid dripping from his eyes. His tension flies out in the single bone-deep exhale. He’s tired. Exhausted. For more reasons than one, and most of them good.  
  
He huffs. “I didn’t expect you to visit and make me sad, Wataru. What an awful partner.”  
  
“Apologies, Your Majesty. I am not one for subtleties when it comes to romance. However, I can’t say I regret it.” Wataru’s hand rises to cradle his cheek. “You’re positively beautiful when you cry.”

“What an extremely strange thing to say, Wataru.”  
  
“Are you insulted?”  
  
He leaves the question hanging by leaning into the caress and shutting his eyes. His partner can figure the answer out on his own.  
  
A breathy chuckle follows his reaction. Wataru tugs at his limbs like he's a doll, bringing him closer to resume their cuddle. He blinks an eye open as his shirt shifts, but it’s Wataru working to button it again. Once done, he fluffs the pillows propping them on the headboard before laying on the bed, Eichi in tow.  
  
Tonight has been… something. He’ll process it when morning arrives. For now he wants to rest, burrowing into the solid chest acting as his pillow.  
  
Wataru’s breath is warm against his forehead. “Ah. One question before you enter the land of dreams.”  
  
“Mm…?”  
  
“Hasumi-kun. He, as well…?”  
  
While confused, Eichi nods in agreement.  
  
“... I see.” The amount of amusement bubbling within single sentence is ominous. Frightening. “I _see_ … Fufu.”  
  
Eichi should make a note to warn Keito. He was a good friend during his confession at the archery grounds. He’s obligated to return the favor and lessen the damage from Wataru’s tricks as much as he can as an appreciative gesture.  
  
Still… he wants to know exactly where Wataru’s thoughts are going. The best way would be to observe as it happens in real-time. He’s Wataru’s best audience, after all. He’s required to see everything.  
  
He sends a quick _sorry, Keito_ thought to his friend, hoping the apology reaches him across the void. Keito is not going to know what hit him.  
  
It’s bound to be a wild ride.

**Author's Note:**

> * eichi's, tori's, and keito's soulmates are up to the reader (whether ritsumao are soulmates is also up to reader)  
> * p.s. keito is going to have a Bad Time, thanks eichi


End file.
